


Sedoretus in Westeros

by sunkelles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Arya/Shireen - Freeform, F/F, Femslash, Het, Politics, Sansa/Margaery - Freeform, Sedoretu, Sedoretus in Westeros, Sexy Times, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:24:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3945334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story set in a universe where most of Westeros uses Sedoretus, a four person marriage.</p><p>DISCONTINUED: but there is a summary posted of how the fic would have progressed</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Catelyn and Cersei's Bedding

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [An Ever-Fixed Mark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/42803) by [imperfectcircle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectcircle/pseuds/imperfectcircle). 
  * Inspired by [The Gracious Whim Of Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1937682) by [bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentintoxication/pseuds/bemusedlybespectacled). 



> Note for readers unfamiliar with the planet O:
> 
> Ki'O society is divided into two halves or moieties, called (for ancient religious reasons) the Morning and the Evening. You belong to your mother's moiety, and you can't have sex with anybody of your moiety.
> 
> Marriage on O is a foursome, the sedoretu — a man and a woman from the Morning moiety and a man and a woman from the Evening moiety. You're expected to have sex with both your spouses of the other moiety, and not to have sex with your spouse of your own moiety. So each sedoretu has two expected heterosexual relationships, two expected homosexual relationships, and two forbidden heterosexual relationships.
> 
> The expected relationships within each sedoretu are:
> 
> The Morning woman and the Evening man (the "Morning marriage")
> 
> The Evening woman and the Morning man (the "Evening marriage")
> 
> The Morning woman and the Evening woman (the "Day marriage")
> 
> The Morning man and the Evening man (the "Night marriage")
> 
> The forbidden relationships are between the Morning woman and the Morning man, and between the Evening woman and the Evening man, and they aren't called anything, except sacrilege.
> 
> It's just as complicated as it sounds, but aren't most marriages?
> 
> \-- Mountain Ways by Ursula le Guin

Robert staggers drunkly out of their bedding chamber. Catelyn gets an unwelcome feeing of fear in her gut. She hopes that Cersei is alright. She does not know the man well, but she suspects a drunken, mournful Robert is not a pleasant partner in bed.

She is not given much time to contemplate the state of her new wife. The men quickly shove Catelyn through the door to her sedoretu’s bedding chamber.

 

The first thing that she notices is that the covers are white. She supposes it is easier for them to know the marriages were consummated when they can see the blood from the beddings clearly on the sheets. The sheets are no where near as pristine as before Robert and Cersei consummated the Morning Marriage. Cersei is already sprawled naked across the bed, lying in her own drying blood. She turns her head and looks to Catelyn.

“I suppose they expect us to consummate,” she says, a bitter sort of quality to her voice. Catelyn’s not sure what she’s so bitter about. She’s to be mother of the Seven Kingdoms, and mother of kings. It’s a position most morning women would have bent over backwards for.   
“That would be traditional,” Catelyn says, her voice dry and gravely. It’s tradition to consummate each marriage on the wedding night, and Catelyn is nothing if not dutiful.

Even if they do plan on splitting their sedoretu between King’s Landing and Winterfell, it is Catelyn’s duty to bed her wife. She is less eager to admit how much the prospect appeals to her.

“Robert and I consummated,” Cersei says, her voice tight and pained. Catelyn sighs as she realizes what Cersei needs right now. Her wife needs a confidant. Catelyn has listened to many a problem, growing up as Lysa’s older sister. She can listen to a few more.

She does not respond, and waits for Cersei to vent.

If it were, she shudders at the thought, Robert in her bed, looking for a shoulder to cry on, she knows that the subject would be Lyanna.

Lyanna Stark’s ghost will haunt her sedoretu forever. Her disappearance and death took a huge toll on every member of their sedoretu to be, but Robert might have been hit hardest. He fancied himself in love with the wild girl. Catelyn still doesn’t know if he truly knew her. She knows that she didn’t.

Other than this night, she’s afraid she won’t be able to know Cersei either. They do plan on splitting the sedoretu.

Royalty have split sedoretus before, Catelyn reminds herself. This is nothing strange. The Targaryens split between King’s Landing and Dragonstone since they took up the practice of sedoretus. But it seems strange and startling to Catelyn.

She grew up with a nearly full sedoretu of parents, plus her uncle Brynden and her siblings. She always imagined that she would be evening lady of a great keep along with a full sedoretu of spouses and a slew of children. She almost had that, before the war. They had almost ruled Storm’s End, with Lyanna at their side.

But Brandon is dead, and Ned is to be lord of Winterfell. They cannot even all live in King’s Landing. Catelyn tries not to mourn the possibility too thoroughly, though. That ship sailed a long time ago.

  
“He called me Lyanna,” Cersei whispers, startling Catelyn out of her inner monologue.   
“He called me her name as he pounded into me,” Cersei says, her voice growing from a whisper to a growl.   
“That’s why he drank half of the wine in the Seven Kingdoms,” she spits, “because he wanted to pretend that I was her.”

“I’m sorry,” Catelyn tells her, trying to fathom a way to decrease her wife’s pain, “Robert is not over Lyanna.”   
“Is not over?” Cersei says, with a bitter little laugh, “I think I puzzled that out for myself.”   
“He loved her,” Catelyn says, though she doesn’t think that she speaks the truth, “perhaps he can love you too.”

“You’re an entertaining woman, Catelyn Tully,” she says, a hint of actual humor in her tone.   
“Stark,” she says, “my name is Stark. Yours is Baratheon.” Cersei actually rolls her eyes at her.   
“I’ll be a Lannister until I die,” she says. Catelyn sends her a confused look.

“The only one who wants to be a Baratheon is Robert,” Cersei says, “and perhaps Eddard. He seems far more enthralled with our evening husband than I am.” Their husbands had been childhood sweethearts, and it seems like they are the only ones particularly excited by the marriage. Now they’re to be separated. It gives Catelyn a bit too much comfort that they’ll all end up miserable.

“By the Seven,” Catelyn says, “this is quite a mess we’ve made ourselves.”

“I take no responsibility,” Cersei tells her, then she looks closer, “nor should you. This is our husbands’ fault.” 

  
“Too true,” Cat responds. The other woman’s voice has started to take on a sensual quality, and Catelyn would probably have assented to anything she said. 

“We’ll leave the fuck-ups to them,” she says, her lips ghosting over Catelyn’s ear, “and we can have fucking.” Catelyn can’t take it anymore. Such vulgar language in the other woman’s sensual, lilting voice sends her over the edge. She seizes the other woman’s lips in a kiss. Cersei kisses back, fiercely, and Cat lets out a little groan. Cersei is obviously experienced, though she doesn’t bother wondering who she’s been with.

Cersei fiddles with her lacings and rips off her deep blue dress before Catelyn even realizes what she’s doing.

There’s something invigorating about the way the other woman kisses, something that makes her want more and more. Catelyn’s hands twine in the other woman’s curls, and Cersei hooks her hands around her waist, and runs her hands firmly along her thighs.

She feels herself becoming moist, and she's not sure if she's more aroused or confused. Cersei hooks her finger's inside of her, and Catelyn hitches against her, trying to edge herself into the circular movements the other woman is making.

Her body goes pleasantly limp as she screams.

 

 

She doesn’t want Cersei to move. She doesn’t want her to, but she knows that she has to. They still have two marriages to consummate. She squeezes Cersei’s hand.

“I don’t want to move,” Cersei tells her. Catelyn agrees, but she’s always had to be the sensible one.

“I still have another bedding,” Catelyn says, knowing that she doesn’t sound overly excited about it. Cersei sighs loudly, but holds out her hand.

“You’re going to make me pull you off the bed,” Catelyn says, “aren’t you?”   
“Maybe,” Cersei says, with a hint of humor in her tone. Catelyn rolls her eyes, but she pulls her bride off the bed.

Cersei lets go of her hand before Catelyn even realizes that she’s still holding it.

Cersei exits the room, but Catelyn sits back down on the bed in all her naked glory. 

“Good night, Catelyn,” Cersei says, a hint of humor in her tone.

“Call me Cat,” she says, a small smile crawling across her face. Cersei sends her a nod before she saunters off to her assigned bed chamber.

 

Catelyn sits back down on the bed. Her husband will be here for their own bedding shortly. They may have a traditional wedding night, but their sedoretu will never be proper.

 

Catelyn sighs as she lies flat on the bed, trying not to worry about what their split marriage will do to either them or the Realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal note: I've been considering writing a fic with sedoretus ever since I read An Ever-Fixed Mark like two years ago, but I'd never had the motivation to until I read asoiaf. 
> 
> My plan is to write at least a few more short fics set in this same


	2. Ned, Robert, and the Greyjoy Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which husbands are reunited after six years, and Robert asks Ned to do something he sorely does not want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though in a sedoretu, there are four members, I have made it so that if they all live together only one technically has the title. The adjective “High” means that person is the member that inherited the title and does most of the ruling. Shireen Baratheon would be “High Lady” of Dragonstone, and Robert is “High King” of the Seven Kingdoms. The other members of the sedoretu are identified by their moiety.
> 
> Ned is technically the morning king, and Catelyn is technically the evening queen. They go by their titles concerning Winterfell, though. Cersei is the morning queen, but has gotten most of King's Landing to simply refer to her as the queen. 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope to slam this into the actual fic at some point, but because it's starting to become relevant I thought that I should at least make an ATTEMPT to explain some of this shit.

* * *

 

 

 

Ned’s horse trots at a brisk pace along the grassy land near the Western coast. He spots the tents that compose Robert’s camp, and gives his stead a slight kick. His mount begins to gallop along the harsh terrain.

The land near Pyke is rocky and barren, much more like the Iron Islands themselves than the fertile lands closer to Riverrun. This does not mean that Robert is going to let the Ironborn keep it, though. It’s closer to the opposite. Robert even called his husband from Winterfell to help combat the rebellion. He plans to beat the Greyjoys into submission. His king- his _husband_ bounds out of the war tent when he realizes that Ned is approaching. His face lights up with a smile, and Ned almost smiles as well.

“Ned,” Robert shouts.

“Your grace,” Ned says, and Robert glares at him in response.

“Get off your damn horse!” He shouts, and Ned dismounts as he laughs.

“Come on, Ned,” Robert says. The other men avert their eyes, and start walking back to what appears to be the war tent.

“Shouldn’t we discuss our strategy?” Ned asks. He traveled all this way to help with the war effort. He needs to help with the war effort.

“Strategy can wait,” Robert says, and he grabs Ned by the arm and drags him away. Ned suddenly realizes what his husband is planning, and he isn’t opposed to it.

 

 

Their tent is enormous, and the yellow Baratheon stag flies on the black flag above it. Ned doesn’t have much time to observe the outside of the tent before he’s inside of the tent.

Their cot is not very soft. Ned probably wouldn’t have noticed this detail if Robert didn’t push him into it so eagerly. Ned hasn’t shared a bed with Robert since shortly after their wedding night. He’d almost forgotten how vigorous he is in bed. He seizes Ned’s lips in a fierce kiss before he’s even gotten the chance to breath.

 

They aren’t twenty anymore, but they’re still young enough to go a few rounds before they’re lying loose-limbed in their own sticky mess.

 

“I hate being High King,” Robert mutters into his neck. Suddenly, Ned remembers that he is technically a king of the Seven Kingdoms as well. He can’t say that’s a thought that has passed through his mind often.

“I’m married to you, but I never get to see you,” Robert tells him. Ned runs his fingers through the other man’s thick black hair. He’s missed his husband terribly. They went from fostering together to not seeing each other for six years, and Ned can’t even understand how that happened. It’s been so long that he can hardly remember what it was like to be around the other man all of the time. He can barely believe that he’s actually with Robert _now_.

Robert says “I wish things had gone how we planned them to.”

“Because now I’ve ended up ruling in the Red Keep with _Cersei,”_ he says, and he spits their wife’s name like a curse. Ned knew that Robert would never be happy with a woman other than Lyanna, but he’d hoped that he’d at least give Cersei a chance. Ned can see now that that was not the case.

“And you’re as far from the Keep as possible,” Robert says, “I just- I want what we could have had.”

“Sometimes I want that too,” Ned admits. He misses his brothers, and his father and his sister. Sometimes, he even misses the opportunity they had to be a real sedoretu. He wishes that he could give that to his children.

Robert wraps his arms around him, and they curl up together, similar to the way that he and Cat do now.

“At least I can have you now,” he says, as a bitter sort of laugh bubbles past his lips. Ned lays his head against his husband’s shoulder. He finds it sad that he can only have this in wartime, and he can only be with his wife in peace time. He tries to shake away the thought, as he curls up with Robert. He can at least try to enjoy the time they have together, even though it has to be because of a war.

 

 

 

The battles do not drag on long, and the nights are surprising treats. But soon, Robert sends his brother Stannis and the Royal Fleet to Fair Isle to set a trap for the Iron Fleet. The war goes fairly swiftly after that.

 

 

 

They besiege Pyke and win the war in a swift stroke. They’ve won the battle, and Balon has bent the knee. Ned would think that their work is done. As usual, Ned is wrong.

 

“Ned,” Robert tells him, “I want you to take the Greyjoy boy to Winterfell with you.” Ned hears what his husband isn’t saying. He wants to make the boy a hostage.

“He’s nine years old,” Ned says, his voice barely coming out from the guilt of it.

“He’s Balon Greyjoy’s whelp,” Robert says, “and I need something more solid to insure his loyalty. Fealty means nothing to an Ironman.”

“Robert-”

“He bent the knee,” his husband says, “but I need more than that to make sure he doesn’t put that crown back on his head.”

“He’s a child,” Ned asserts. It isn’t honorable to take a child as hostage for his father’s good behavior, and it’s far from right. He doesn’t know if he could live with that.

“Please, Ned,” Robert says, “you’re the only one I can trust to hold a hostage this important.” Ned takes a deep breath, and knows that refusal isn’t an option. He will have to take this boy back to Winterfell with him. There is no other option.

“Of course, Robert,” Ned says, and there’s a tone of resignation in his voice.

“I knew that you’d come round,” Robert says, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

 

Theon Greyjoy seems a solemn child, and doesn’t say anything after he’s said goodbye to his mother and sister. The boy doesn’t even come up to Ned’s waist, and his long black hair hangs over his eyes. It’s difficult for him to look at this child, who is not much older than Robb or Jon, and remember that he might be called to take off his head. He tries not to think about it as he readies the boy’s horse.

 

He tries to at least make a little bit of small talk as they ride.

“Theon,” he says.

“Yes,” the boy says, emotions in his voice that Ned can’t even begin to place.

“What’s your moiety?” he asks.

“Morning,” Theon says. And Ned’s breath hitches as he realizes that he’s going to have their morning hostage around his _evening_ children. He does not want to think about what might happen there. They ride in silence for the rest of the day, and Ned doesn’t mind. He’ll be home again soon, though the boy might never glance his own again.

 

He tries not to think of that either.


	3. Karstarks and Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless fluff, filler, and exposition bomb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT INFORMATION: It is not considered incest for two siblings to make up half of a sedoretu, because they are the same moiety and have an inherently non-sexual relationship. It is actually a common practice. Many noble houses prefer to keep as many members of their family in the ruling sedoretu as possible, to retain as much political power as possible. Many social climbing families like the Tyrells prefer to marry off their children in twos for the same reason, and often end up as the dominant political power in a sedoretu. This also allows for a familial relationship to already exist between the two and helps build a stronger sedoretu.

Catelyn had hoped that Ned’s bannermen would have the tact to at least keep their contrived betrothal proposals to themselves until Robb reached his twelfth name day. But here they are, halfway through Robb’s ninth year, and Lord Rickard Karstark is making an obvious play for a betrothal for their children. Both he and his morning wife have come to Winterfell with their morning children, while the rest of the Karstark clan stayed at Karhold.

 

Ned has already set a feast for their arrival, and the Karstarks brought with them their resident bard. All of the children are expected to dance.

 

Robb, as is expected, asks Torrhen, the eldest of the Karstark clan at three and ten, for the first dance, and Eddard, who is one and ten, shyly asks Sansa. Little Alys Karstark does not look very happy, but asks Jon Snow for a dance. She looks away from the two, and tries to concentrate on her own children. Her daughter seems excited enough at getting to dance with someone, though she keeps looking back to the lady Alys. After the dance, Robb quickly breaks away from Torrhen, and asks Eddard, who was quickly abandoned by Sansa after the song ended, to dance.

Sansa nearly runs across the hall to meet Alys, and quickly demands a dance. Catelyn realizes that her daughter has started to notice members of the morning moiety. Lord Rickard does not seem happy that his daughter has attracted the attention of the wrong Stark, but Alys seems perfectly content dancing with the younger lady. Alys has nine years compared to Sansa’s six, so Sansa is not tall enough for them to use proper dancing form. Sansa tries, though, and wraps her small hands around the taller girl’s waist as Alys rests her hands on her shoulders.

 

Her eldest son is a good little lord, and comes over to ask Alys for a dance after he finishes with Eddard. Sansa doesn’t seem very excited to give up her dance partner and glares as she goes off to relay the entire tale to Jeyne Poole. Catelyn is relieved that both Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel are evening, considering how infatuated her evening daughter seems with Alys.

Robb doesn’t look as though he’s any happier with the situation than Sansa is. He keeps looking angrily back to Theon Greyjoy as the older boy dances with kitchen girls and stable boys indiscriminately. Catelyn desperately hopes that as they introduce Robb to more suitable morning men he will give up on his obsession with Theon Greyjoy. However, neither Torrhen nor Eddard Karstark is able to accomplish this feat.

 

Catelyn grits her teeth as Robb leaves Alys to ask Theon to dance and instead watches as Arya drags a little toddling Bran around the edges of the Great Hall. Eventually, her younger daughter will have to dance with her potential suitors and act a proper lady at feasts and dances. She can give her a little longer to be a wild child, though.

 

Her husband has never been much of a dancer, but she appreciates that he tries for her. She thinks that he’s even grown to enjoy it a bit. They dance to “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” and “A Lord and his Knight” and a few songs that Catelyn doesn’t know the name of before she decides it’s time for her youngest children to go to bed. She drags Arya and Bran off to bed far before midnight and then, when she arrives back, she carries a half-sleeping Sansa back to her chambers.

* * *

 

 

The next night, she puts Sansa to bed and her older daughter,  surprisingly, does not demand a story. She asks a question instead.

 

“Why don’t you have a whole sed-sed,” Sansa sputters, trying to get out a word she clearly couldn’t pronounce.

“Why aren’t there four of you?” Sansa asks, “in your marriage.”

“There are four of us,” Catelyn responds in confusion, “have we never explained it to you?”

“No,” Sansa says, “you never told me you had a wife. Is she pretty? And charming and can she sing and-“ Catelyn can’t keep from laughing a little at her daughter’s fixation.

“My wife is Cersei Lannister,” she says, the woman’s maiden name rolling habitually off her tongue the way it always has. Cersei would never want to be called Baratheon anyway.

“Cersei Lannister?” Sansa asks excitedly.

“You’re married to Cersei Lannister? And the King?”

“Yes, Sansa,” Cat tells her with laughter.

“So you and dad are a king and a queen?” She asks eagerly.

“Well,” she says, “technically, yes.” She technically is the evening queen, but he hasn’t thought about since shortly after her marriage. She’s queen only in name at this point, and neither she nor Ned have used those titles except for the most formal occasions since the wedding.  

“And I’m a princess,” she concludes in awe. She’s not exactly wrong. If they all lived in King’s Landing, her children would be considered princes and princesses as much as Robert and Cersei’s children. They would just come behind them in the line of succession. Technically, her children are still right behind the Baratheon children in the line of succession, but it’s barely worth mentioning.  The chances of the children of a sedoretu’s lesser marriage ascending to a position are nearly nonexistent.

“What’s she like,” Sansa demands as she worms her way onto Catelyn’s lap.

“Cersei?” she asks.

“Of course,” Sansa replies.

“I honestly don’t know her that well,” Cat tells her, but her daughter just looks at her expectedly.

“Alright, alright,” she says, because her daughter has worn her down.

“Cersei might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” she says. The words feel like a lie, because Cersei is certainly the most beautiful woman that she’s ever met. Sansa looks like she’s about to squeal at the romance of it all.

“She seems cold,” Catelyn says, “but she’s just passionate.” Passionate, and vulgar and wonderful, she thinks. Ned was able to see his husband just two years ago, but Catelyn doesn’t foresee being able to see her wife any time soon. The thought saddens her more than it should.

“We barely got to know each other,” Catelyn says, “but I still feel like I’ve known her for my whole life.” Sansa is hanging on her every word, and she knows that she shouldn’t have said so much. Her sedoretu is far from the stuff of the songs her daughter loves so much.

“But she might not be anything like I remember,” Cat asserts to her daughter, “I haven’t seen my wife in nearly nine years.”

“People don’t change that much,” Sansa decides, “and you’re married. You must love each other.” Catelyn doesn’t crush her daughter’s naïve notion the way that she should.

“Could I marry Alys?” Sansa asks quickly.

“No, sweetling,” her mother tells her, “probably not.”

“But why not?” Sansa demands.

“Your father doesn’t want to set a betrothal for you yet,” her mother says. They haven’t discussed sedoretus much yet. She and Ned don’t even know if they might want to keep one of their daughters in Robb’s sedoretu as well.

“But she’s so nice,” Sansa mumbles into her shoulder, “and pretty.”

“Your father will find you a handsome and gallant lord,” her mother promises her, “and a lady even more gorgeous and gracious than the lady Alys.”

“Really?” Sansa asks with a look of wonder in her eyes.

Catelyn struggles to assent to this, because she fears she has made her daughter a promise that she can’t keep. She can promise her daughter someone of higher birth, but gracious and gorgeous are harder to attain.

“I promise, Sansa,” she decides.

“I hope that I get to live with my wife,” Sansa says.

“I do too, sweetling,” Catelyn replies, and she really means it. She would never subject one of her children to a split sedoretu. Half of the time it feels as if she only has one spouse.

“Tell me a story?” Sansa asks.

“It’s gotten late,” her mother says, “I really shouldn’t start one now-“

“Please, please, mother,” Sansa begs, which is highly unbefitting of a young lady.

“Alright,” Catelyn says, “there once was a young maiden who lived by a river.” And she goes on to the tale of a young maiden who falls in love with a river nymph and goes to live with her. She kisses her daughter on the forehead, and then leaves her to fall asleep. She hopes that she hasn’t filled her head past the brim with songs.


	4. Sansa, Arya, and the Worst Kept Secret in Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sansa and Arya play a game.

Septa Mordane says that Sansa is the most pious ten year old that she’s ever met. Sansa takes great pride in this as she kneels in front of the carving of the Maiden, praying for her guidance as she grows. Mainly she prays for the beautiful lady and handsome lord she knows her future will bring. She knows that the sept at Winterfell is simple compared to the ones farther South, but she still feels at home among the carvings of the seven faces of the God.

Sansa’s the only one of her siblings that really keeps the Seven. Robb sits in the Sept and prays during services because it’s expected of him. Bran gazes up at the face of the Warrior, but has never darkened the Sept’s door outside of services, and she’s fairly certain that Arya’s learned how to sleep with her eyes open to avoid listening to the Septon speak. Rickon keeps no gods, as he has just begun to toddle.She isn’t sure if she should count her half-brother Jon Snow, but she doubts he has ever even stepped foot inside the Sept. It is her mother’s domain, after all.

 

Her relative peace and tranquility is disturbed when the door slams open, and Arya bounds inside.

“What are you doing here?” Sansa asks her sister. The other girl smells vaguely of wet straw. She must have been playing in the stables, or somewhere equally as dirty earlier in the day.

“The Sept’s the last place that Bran would look,” Arya says with a little grin, and Sansa glares.

“Are you playing Dragons and Pretenders again?” Sansa asks with an exasperated voice.

“Yes,” Arya says, and at least she manages to sound a bit contrite.

“Father told you to stop,” Sansa says, “the game’s as good as treason.”

“It’s just a child’s game,” Arya says, “like come-into-my-castle-“

“It’s a child’s game about the Targaryens,” Sansa says in a superior manner, “remember, the ones that father and the king overthrew?”

“Of course I remember that,” Arya says, “I’m not stupid, Sansa.”

“Besides,” Sansa says, “mother says you’ve ruined more than one dress playing that game.”

“It’s not my fault you’re too proper to have fun,” she says.

“I have fun,” Sansa tells her, “just not fun that’s not treason.”

“You’re afraid of dirt,” Arya taunts, “and of getting in trouble.”

“I am not,” Sansa says.

“Prove it,” Arya says with a little smirk.

“I’ll play your dumb game,” she says, “just to prove that I can.” 

Sansa is capable of doing anything that Arya can, even if she’s usually not stupid enough to attempt it. But the implication that she can’t do something that her improper, rude little sister can sets her over the edge. Sansa wants to prove how capable she is, no matter how immature it is.

“Fine,” Sansa growls, “I’ll hide.” Arya raises an eyebrow at her.

“Are you serious?” she asks.

“Of course,” Sansa says. Arya actually gives her a smile her, the genuine sort that her sister is so fond of shooting off at servants and stable boys and all the people that don’t really matter. Sansa doesn’t understand why it makes her as happy as it does.

“What are the boundaries?” Arya asks her.

“No further than the Godswood,” Sansa says.

“Fair enough,” Arya says, “I’ll count to five and sixty.” Sansa nods as her sister closes her eyes. Then her sister starts counting, and Sansa hurries out of the sept and tries to think of somewhere that she can hide that won’t be absurdly dirty.

 

She has no idea how she ends up in the stables. But now, Sansa is curled up in a little ball in the back behind a small bale of hay, trying to regulate her breathing and take her mind off the smell of manure. She says a silent prayer to the Mother that the brown gunk she’s sitting on top of is simply mud and not horse poop.  She does not even want to think about having to explain how she ruined one of her nicest dresses. She hears footsteps, and takes a nervous breath.

“Come on, Theon,” Robb says, “no one will see.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Theon says, “when I had to pay that stable boy off with three gold pieces.”

“It was worth it, wasn’t it?” he says with a little grin. Then he nuzzles the boy’s neck, and Sansa’s breath hitches when she realizes just what’s happening before her eyes.

“Robb,” Theon says breathlessly, “we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“That’s what you always say,” he says.

“Because we never should do this,” Theon says but he kisses Robb anyway, and Sansa’s fairly sure that the way that their hands are moving is unseemly for two boys who aren’t wed. Sansa feels as if she’s in a trance as she watches their lips and hands move and she knows that someday she’ll have that with someone- two someones.

“I love you-“ one of them says. It’s so faint that Sansa can barely hear it, let alone tell who said it. But she heard it, she’s positive: Robb and Theon are in love. They fall into one of the cells in the stables, and Sansa has to bite to her lips to keep in her squeals. She glides silently out of the stables, and runs off to find Arya. She nearly collides with her sister as she bounds through the Godswood.

“Sansa?” Arya asks breathlessly, as she swerves out of the way, “You don’t run.”

Sansa laughs as she tries to catch her breath, and she can feel her face splaying into an enormous smile.

“What are you grinning about?” Arya asks as she catches her breath, “I found you. Now you have to be the Dragon.” 

Sansa normally wouldn’t tell this information to her sister. Hells, she normally does not even speak to her sister, but her heart is racing and she has to say something about what she saw.

“I found something else,” She says, with the confident grin that one would expect her to be sporting when she knows a secret such as this.

“What?” Arya asks, tactless as always.

“I found Robb and Theon kissing,” Sansa states matter-of-factly.

“What?” Arya asks again. Clearly, this hasn’t made her any less confused.

“Robb and Theon were kissing in the stables, and one of them said “I love you!” Isn’t it like something out of a song?” Sansa asks her, and Arya looks at her with confusion.

“But they can’t be together,” Arya says, perplexed.

“That’s what makes it romantic,” Sansa tells her, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re full of shit,” Arya tells her.

“Shit?” Sansa asks.

“It’s a word for poop,” she says with a cheeky grin, “I learned it from one of the stable boys.”

“That’s disgusting,” Sansa tells her. Arya shrugs.

“That’s a bad word, isn’t it?” Sansa asks her.

Arya shrugs agai and says, “It’s not any worse than you shouting Robb’s secrets all over the North.” Sansa glares at her.

“It’s romantic,” Sansa says.

“Might be,” Arya says, “I don’t really know. But I don’t think it’s your secret to tell.”

 

Sansa feels something bubbling inside her, the same sort of rage that she almost always ends up feeling when she spends an extended amount of time with her sister.

“I don’t need your approval,” Sansa says, though she can’t help but want it. And Arya shrugs. Sansa lets out a groan, and stomps out of the Godswood. She feels out of place. Sansa doesn’t keep the Old Gods any more than Arya keeps the Seven.

 

She tries to calm down as she walks back to the castle. Sansa reminds herself that Jeyne will be properly excited about her information. Jeyne understands romance, and the songs and being a lady. Arya’s not a proper lady at all, but Sansa supposes (sometimes, only sometimes) she likes her well enough. Maybe a lady’s not supposed to get along with her sister. But she imagines the way that Jeyne will squeal when she tells her, and of all the tales that they will, tell along with Beth, of great romances, star-crossed lovers, and destined sedoretus.

 

She and Arya have an eternity to fight, but she only has so much longer to gossip with her friends.


	5. A Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Arryn is dead, and everything is about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short little chapter just to prove that I'm still working on this fic, and to get myself writing on it again.

Catelyn does not receive many ravens. She receives a few from Lysa, and at least one a year from Cersei, speaking of her children and the horrible things Robert has done, things she believes Cersei would not dare to tell anyone not married to the man. She sometimes still receives a raven from her father, though they are less frequent than they used to be. His condition has deteriorated, and it is more difficult for him to write now.

This particular raven isn’t from her sister, her wife, or her father. It’s from Robert  or, more likely, one of his servants, and it informs her only of Jon Arryn’s death and the king’s impending arrival at Winterfell.

She clutches the letter tightly in her hands and starts the walk to the Godswood to inform her husband.

She feels like an intruder in the Godswood. She always has, and she thinks that she always will. They aren’t her gods, and both she and the Old Gods know it.

Ned looks up from his prayer as she walks in, breaking a few twigs and broken leaves in the silence of the forest.

“Catelyn?” he asks. His words sound worried. He knows that she never comes to the Godswood.

**  
**  


“Jon Arryn is dead,” Catelyn tells him. She places a gentle hand on his. Ned is quiet and solemn by nature. Both she and Ned are silent for a few moments. Ned has always been quiet in his grief, and Cat does not have any words of comfort.

“He was a good man,” Ned says, his voice cracking slightly near the end of the sentence. He’s mourning the loss of the man who was as good as a father to him, and she can hear it in his voice.  

“Robert is riding for Winterfell,” he says. His voice sounds slightly less sorrowful as he says this.

“We will need to prepare a feast,” Catelyn says, “the best that we can with such short notice.” Ned nods, absently.

“Cat,” he says, “I do not think that Robert simply wishes to grieve with me.”

“Why not?” she asks. She hasn’t caught on to whatever he’s trying to elude to yet.

“Robert didn’t just lose a father figure,” Ned says, “but a Hand.”

“You think that he will ask you to become his Hand?” Catelyn asks. The very idea is highly unorthodox, almost unthinkable. The King’s Hand could be his father, his brother, perhaps his good son, but his husband? She knows that it has happened once or twice, but it seldom worked to the king’s advantage. He never increased his circle by gifting the position to a man already tied to him through marriage.

“I don’t know,” Ned admits. The godswood is eerily silent. There are no animals here, only she, Ned, and his gods. Sometimes she wonders if her New Gods even reach this far North.

The sunlight peaks gently through the canopy of trees and sheds a gentle light on the face of the heart tree. She doubts that she will ever feel like anything but an outsider in this place.

“We should prepare for their arrival,” Catelyn says.

“I will be out in a while,” Ned says. Catelyn understands. Ned needs to pray. She can start their preparations. There will have to be a feast, and they will need to prepare a separate set of chambers. They have food and wine to gather, and festivities to plan. She doesn’t have much time, and she does not know what this visit will bring.  

She sends Ned a last, lingering smile.

“I cannot say that I’m not excited,” she says. Ned looks to her with a hint of confusion.

She smiles in earnest as she says, “I haven’t seen my wife in years.”

 


	6. a woman and her wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cersei missed her wife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've discontinued this work, but i've decided to post the last chapter i had worked up and write up a summary of how the fic (likely) would have gone from this point. 
> 
> i know that there are a lot of people that enjoyed this story, and you guys deserve some closure on this.

When Cersei was eight, she had asked her father if she and Jaime could wed the way that the Valyarians did. The Valyrians wed with four members of the same moiety, and all of the spouses were expected to have intimate relationships. Aegon, his sisters and Orys Baratheon were the last same moiety match in Westerosi history, because the Targaryens later converted fully to the Faith of the Seven and their customs. The story survived, though, and it gave a young Cersei, who was in love with her brother, hope.

“The Targaryens who wed members of the same moiety were ingrates,” he says coldly, “and I expect that I will not hear such stupidity from my own daughter again. House Lannister has _proper_ sedoretus.” Later on, she’d tried to pretend that she did not mean it that way, that she wanted only to share spouses and titles with her brother, but the damage was already done. Lord Tywin separated them after that, and Cersei gave up on love, and on happiness.

She certainly wasn’t filled with hope when Robert bedded her. Afterwards she entertained the idea of hope with Catelyn, and the nights and ravens they shared after. Cersei thought that the idea of love might be worth another thought.

 

Then Jaime came to join the Kingsguard, and she thought she might one day have everything she ever wanted. She now has three wonderful, golden children by Jaime, and she thinks that perhaps she can have everything that she ever wanted.

  


“I don’t know why you’re so excited to leave for Winterfell,” Jaime sighs into her neck.

“Catelyn is at Winterfell,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the universe.

“That doesn’t seem all that exciting to me,” he says, sounding awfully jealous.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she says, at least a little snobbishly, “you’ve never been married.”

“Close enough,” he replies. Cersei laughs at that, because it’s true. Jaime’s been more a husband to her than Robert has.

 

She sees her wife, and notices that the woman has changed. Her vibrant, fiery hair is braided back into a simple Northern style, and she is wearing a grey gown. A younger Catelyn never would have felt comfortable in such drab attire, but her face lights up when she sees Cersei. Catelyn still shines like the sun, and Cersei knows that things can’t have changed too much.

Robert runs towards Ned, and engulfs him in a bear hug. Cersei and Catelyn are far more civilized, and they simply smile. Catelyn approaches her, and takes her by the hands, looking deeply into her eyes. Catelyn’s eyes are bright blue, like the sky on a sunny day and Cersei sighs. She missed her wife.

 

All but one of Catelyn’s children inherited her good looks and fair coloring, which Cersei thinks is a relief. At least only one of the children has to live with looks like Ned. Sansa looks much like her mother did when they wed, and it creates a feeling of nostalgia in Cersei. Most of her memories of that night were negative, except for she and Catelyn’s bedding. That’s one of her most pleasant memories to date.

 

Robert shows each of the children a good deal of affection, much more than he showed _her_ children. Cersei doesn’t allow that to sour her attitude, though. These are _Catelyn’s_ children, and that means that they matter.

 

“Take me to the crypts, Ned,” Robert says, and Ned for one, doesn’t show any emotion, positive or negative. Cersei thinks that’s because Ned does not feel anything at all. The other two members of their sedoretu leave for the crypts, and it leaves Cersei and Catelyn alone.

“Cersei,” Catelyn says with a warm smile, “let me show you the castle.” Cersei smiles, and lets her wife lead her around the dankest, ugliest castle in the Seven Kingdoms. She at least pretends to be impressed by it.

  


Catelyn knows that Winterfell is not as ornate as Casterly Rock, or even The Red Keep. Cersei refrains from mentioning it, though. Catelyn thinks that that alone proves her wife still loves her. Cersei never keeps her negative opinions to herself, which is something that Catelyn really should not find endearing.

 

The people at the feast are loud at the start of it, but they grow louder and louder the drunker they get. Catelyn watches as Cersei downs glass after glass of wine, and she follows suit. There’s no time so joyful as a reunion with a spouse. They probably get drunker than any of the other guest. It’s ill-befitting a pair of high born ladies, a pair of queens, but Catelyn doesn’t much care. She hasn’t had time with her wife in fifteen years, and she’s going to make the most of it, as sure as winter always comes.   


They’re both giggling drunk, and Catelyn says, probably much too loudly, “I think that I would like to spend the night with my wife.” Cersei grabs her hand, and they climb the stairs and make the trek up to the room.


	7. summary of what would have happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the summary: main additional pairings include sansa/margaery and arya/shireen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my hard drive on my computer died completely on my last Christmas, so I lost ⅞ of the concept work that I did on this, but I’m going to try to make a coherent summary of what I thought I was going to do with this fic.

Robert had plans to marry Sansa to Joffrey in order to fulfill his dreams of having children with Lyanna/having children with Ned. He also wants to make Ned hand and Ned’s really, really wary of all of it. For one, the children of the different marriages within a sedoretu are never supposed to wed; that’s basically incest because they should have been raised as closely as siblings. Plus, that leaves Catelyn alone up North with the children while Robert is surrounded by spouses (even though he only likes one of them). And then, of course, there's the matter of how unorthodox a king making his husband his hand is. But he ends up agreeing because of Catelyn. 

 

Catelyn gets Cersei to promise to protect her daughters as they leave, and everything goes much the same on the Kingsroad. The first major change is that Stannis and Shireen are in King’s Landing for reasons, and she and Arya become friends and Arya ends up going to foster with the Baratheons of Dragonstone. (she and shireen read adventure books and sword fight and make flower crowns, and make davos take them sailing and it's all very very cute) 

 

Then, everything still goes to shit after Robert dies. Robb is declared king in the north by his bannermen, and starts marching south to retrieve his father and sister. Cersei waves the olive branch, and offers to send ned to the wall and return sansa as a show of good faith. But only if robb bends the knee to his sedoretu brother, of course. 

 

At catelyn’s prompting, robb seriously considers the idea. Until joffrey goes over his mother’s head anyway and chops off ned’s head. Catelyn burns cersei’s letter as soon as she finds out. And there’s a small, insidious part of her that wonders if she ever knew her wife at all. 

 

Renly baratheon declares himself king, and the tyrells back him up. A betrothal between himself and margaery and loras tyrell is set, along with an empty spot to be filled. Stannis declares himself king, and arya is left an ambiguous hostage in dragonstone. She is treated far better than sansa, and she and shireen maintain their friendship/budding romance as shireen tries to urge her father to treat with robb. (stannis maintains that he will support the boy king’s claim, but only if he  _ makes _ it. He won’t work with him if he continues to claim a dead title as opposed to the one that is his by rights) shireen maintains that  _ neither  _ of them is going to get the throne if they don’t work together. 

 

Balon declares himself king in the iron islands, and robb is king in the north. Catelyn urges him to declare himself king of the seven kingdoms, because he has a stronger claim than any of the other claimants, as the eldest child legitimate child of robert’s sedoretu. He is considering the idea, but has not completely decided on it. He doesn’t have any southron ambitions. 

 

In order to cross the twins, catelyn secures a betrothal with a frey girl and boy, and robb is  _ furious _ . The spot she promised to a frey is theon’s spot. there is, of course, an argument about how a hostage is no fit husband, to which robb responds that theon is no hostage (not to him), and sends him off to treat with his father. 

 

This leads to the exact same place that it does in the books, only there is a heavy helping of mocking from the ironborn about theon’s relationship with robb. And then, of course, ramsay takes winterfell in the end. after the same amount of awful as in the books, theon and jeyne poole (who they still tried to pass off, very unsuccessfully as arya), flee to the wall where they are granted asylum. 

 

Bran and rickon do not die, but neither of them ever crosses paths with the rest of their family again. Rickon journeys far north of the wall, and never looks back. Bran, and his almost husband and almost wife jojen and meera, becomes a true greenseer north of the wall, and watches the war from afar. 

 

Robb is, understandably, heartbroken by this. He lost his ancestral seat, the symbol of his family’s power, and his  _ brothers _ because his lover betrayed him. The story becomes the hotest bit of gossip in the entire seven kingdoms, and spawns one of the most popular songs of the time period. 

 

As robb is reeling from the loss of his seat, his brothers, and theon, he sleeps with jeyne westerling and gets her pregnant. Because that is how robb works. He gets emotional, he sleeps with jeyne westerling, and then he marries jeyne westerling. They have a shotgun ceremony and catelyn nearly comes unglued when she finds out. (even though with the marriage the way it is, it is still legal to add two other individuals to form a full sedoretu) 

 

She tells him that the alliance with the freys is dead in the water now, even if they can convince them to simply take the other two places in the sedoretu. (because the most desirable spot in a sedoretu is the girl having the highest ranking guy’s children, because that’s where the bloodline continues. people want their grandkids to inherit positions) she convinces him that if he finally makes his claim for the iron throne, he might be able to acquire some southron allies (because renly’s camp just fell apart after his death) and might actually be able to make some progress. 

 

Reluctantly, he agrees, even though what he really wants to do is take winterfell back immediately. This brings stannis baratheon, who has recently been defeated at the battle of the blackwater, to negotiate with him. Stannis becomes hand, an official betrothal is set between shireen and arya, and they work on a way to defeat joffrey, who is now backed by half of renly’s former supporters, but most importantly, by the tyrells. 

 

So robb is now backed by a major southron power, and is a contender for the iron throne. And he’s marching south to consolidate his power before he’ll even consider marching north. Needless to say, the red wedding doesn’t happen. 

 

Meanwhile, in king’s landing, sansa’s life has gone largely according to the script. Except for now, she is is engaged to both joffrey and margaery, and she’s actually in love with one them. she does not leave with baelish, because margaery has convinced her that they are better off together, no matter what. The lannisters are trying to negotiate with the martells to give trystane the last spot in the sedoretu, but no progress has been made on that front. (the martells are trying to bring the dragons to westeros, and are wary of putting trystane in harm’s way) 

 

Because the red wedding never happens, roose does not have an opportune time to betray robb. He does, however, make a deal with the lannisters that ensures he becomes warden in case of their victory, and trick robb into sending him north to try to “recapture” winterfell. He rejoins his son and runs a campaign of terror in the north, trying to quietly reunite it under bolton rule. 

 

This doesn’t work for two reasons. One, the ironborn forces continue to raid the coasts, and they and the boltons take out a significant amount of each others’ resources. The other reason is that while robb took a large portion of each house’s men with him, he didn’t take all of them, and the house’s defenses remain strong. Most of the northern houses are able to withstand attack, and remain loyal to the starks. 

 

They rally together with robb’s supporters from the riverlands, and gather forces from small, westerland houses with no reason to support house lannister, promising them a rise in social status and to get out from under the lannisters’ thumbs. As joffrey becomes more tyrannical, the small lords of the crownlands begin to subtly betray them and make the stark invasion easier. 

 

They take king’s landing, and robb gains the iron throne. Sansa hugs him when finally gets there, coated in bloodstained armor. “I knew you would come,” she says, “I just knew it.” Margaery peaks out, terrified, from the chamber.

 

“Meet my betrothed,” she says. And robb tells her how all of her betrothals are null and void now, and that they’ll find her proper spouses, but sansa assures him that she loves margaery and _wants_ to wed her. Catelyn seems a little skeptical about whether or not margaery actually loves he back, but suggests it as well, because it will tie the tyrells and the reach to them. Robb ends up yielding, but on the condition that both of their husbands will be northern. 

 

The ironborn are still out doing their own thing, and dorne is obviously plotting. Eventually, they know they’re going to have to do something about that. But right now, all robb wants to do is be with his family for a while and work out logistics. 

 

Sansa and margaery marry, along with two northern boys, and sansa becomes high lady of winterfell. They love each other, and try to make the region the best that they can. The few bards that travel that far north write songs about the roses of house stark. Shireen and arya marry, along with two boys, and shireen becomes the high lady of storm’s end while arya studies as much sword play as she likes. 

 

Stannis stays on as hand, and remains lord of dragonstone, and catelyn is the most important, unofficial member of robb’s small council. 

 

By the time that robb, sansa and margaery, and a portion of their host march north to reclaim winterfell, there is no resistance left. Robb stays for a few months as sansa starts the process of rebuilding, and tries not to let himself dwell on all of his childhood memories. 

 

He marches north to the wall, to finally see his brother after years of being apart. They have a tearful reunion, bastard lord commander and high king of the seven kingdoms. And then, of course, he has to see theon. He doesn’t want to, not really, because he hates him. He hates the man that killed his brothers and stole his throne. All he ever wanted was to marry him and theon went and betrayed him in the worst way possible. it's love turned to hate, and it's the bitterest emotion robb has ever felt. 

 

But then, robb sees him. He’d heard stories about what ramsay bolton (snow, snow, snow) did to him, but he assumed they’d been exaggerated. Most stories are. This one was not. The other man is broken, apologies spilling from his lips, and robb forgives him. He never thought that the would, but he does. He doesn’t think he could forgive himself, holding onto hatred for this man he loved once who has suffered so much. 

 

Robb returns to the kingdom he never really wanted, and leaves the almost husband he always did want alone at the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have any questions about the summary, feel free to ask them. 
> 
> i hope that this gives everyone some closure for this


End file.
